


love drunk

by droseth



Series: variety show [3]
Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23326654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droseth/pseuds/droseth
Summary: Charlotte gets given a gift by a local cultist.Ted needs a pick-me-up.Paul is the first one in the room.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Ted
Series: variety show [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667800
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello,  
> this is what came of the starkid writes prompt 'enchanted'. I have continuations in mind, but Im starting to wonder if I'm over-committing myself.  
> Oh well, have at it anyway
> 
> mildly dubious consent is already tagged due to the whole concept of 'love potions', but like. nothing is going to happen bc that ain't my jam. but just in case.
> 
> 30/03 - this was called 'on our way' but that's a shit name bc i'm bad at naming things, so now it's 'love drunk' which isn't much better but is more relevant.

If you asked Ted, it was all Charlotte’s fault. She was the one who brought the damn flask into work in the first place.

If you asked anyone else, it was definitely Ted’s fault. Sure, Charlotte brought the flask into work, but only because it kept reappearing every time she tried to throw it away. No one _made_ Ted drink the damn thing. That’s on him.

* * *

Charlotte acquires the flask on her way to work in early February. She’s running late, delayed this morning after yet another futile attempt to get Sam to talk to her. 

The conversation is still replaying in her head when someone steps out in front of her. Distracted and rushing, Charlotte runs right into them. 

“Oh! Oh, sir, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t see you there!” 

Charlotte helps them to their feet, fussing as she helps pick up some of their belongings. It’s only when she looks at them properly that her heart begins to sink. 

The man - and Charlotte is guessing a little, what with the large shapeless robe and close-cropped hair - smiles, eyes wide. She takes a step back. They take a step forward. Oh, no, she thinks. It’s one of the Hatchfield weirdos.

Don’t get Charlotte wrong, Hatchetfield is a nice enough place. It’s just that… it seems to attract some very strange folk. There’s the musical cult, and the doll cult, and the - well, you get it. There’s an unreasonable amount of cults and cult-like groups for such a small area. But as long as you don’t piss them off and maybe pay a bit of lip service, you’ll get by just fine.

“Why thank you, ma’am,” they say, their smile creeping wider. They do not blink. Charlotte wishes she knew which group this one belonged to so that she could end the interaction sooner. “Please, accept this token in thanks.” They hold out an ornate, silver flask.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I insist,” they say. Charlotte’s back hits the wall of the nearby front shop, while the robed person looms over her. “You are worried your husband does not love you? A sip of this will ignite a romantic passion in any man who drinks this! Just make sure to be the first person he sees, or his fire may burn for someone else.”

Their left eyelid slides down in the slowest, most horrifying wink Charlotte has ever seen. There’s no other way out that she can see, so with a shaking hand, she takes the flask with a whispered thanks. They smile again, eyes bulging, before they turn and disappear into the morning foot traffic.

Charlotte dumps the flask in the first bin she sees. She’s a little sad about it because it really is a very nice flask. Such a shame to see it go, but better to avoid gifts from cultists.

She’s late enough now that she figures she’ll get a coffee on her way in. The encounter has her rattled as well, and while she waits for her order, she digs in her purse for her own flask for a pick-me-up. 

“Oh, _no,_ ” she whispers, staring at the flasks - _flasks_ , plural - in her purse. One is her old, trusty friend, but the other. 

Somehow, the ornate gifted flask is back in her bag. 

She leaves without getting her order, throwing the flask in the Starbucks bin.

It’s back by the time she gets to CCRP. 

She throws it in the bin in the lobby.

The entire way up, Charlotte checks her purse obsessively. When the lift arrives at her floor and there’s no sign of the flask, she sighs in relief. Only to whimper when she sees the flask waiting for her on her desk. 

She takes a deep shuddering breath, putting her purse down with shaking hands. She needs to talk to Bill, or Melissa, or Paul. They’re all fairly sensible people, not involved in any cults, they’ll know what to do. Probably. Better than dealing with it on her own, at least.

Bill and Paul aren’t at their desks right now, but Charlotte thinks she can hear them in the breakroom. She hurries away, leaving the flask sitting innocuously on her desk.

* * *

Ted has had a shitty day, thank you very much, and it’s barely even started. 

He spilt tea all over his favourite shirt this morning, and the only clean shirt he had was the one he hated with the itchy seams. Changing had already made him late, and then his car wouldn’t start and he’d had to catch the bus. The bus had been full of disgusting children, who had given him a headache with their racket. He couldn’t even drown them out because he forgot his headphones.

And when he _finally_ got to work, Mr. Davidson was waiting to ride his ass. 

The final straw was when he realised his favourite pen had stopped working.

So when he sees the flask sitting out on Charlotte’s desk, well, who is he to resist. It’s a poorly kept secret that Char drinks on the job - but really who doesn’t - so he tops his shitty coffee up with a bit of whatever she’s got today. 

Ted is pleasantly surprised when he takes a sip. Whatever was in the flask is pretty good, though he has no idea what it is. It’s sweet and smooth, with an interesting fruity aftertaste. 

He doesn’t even realise that he’s drunk the entire flask until he’s shaking the last drops down his throat, coffee forgotten and cooling on Charlotte’s desk. 

_Oops,_ Ted thinks with a frown. He hadn’t meant to drink the whole thing, but the damage was done now. It must have been pretty strong too, because Ted’s already starting to feel the effects. He’s starting to feel a little odd - a bit flushed, a bit light-headed - when Paul walks in.

The others aren’t far behind him, but Paul is the only one that matters. 

Because, and he can’t believe he’s only realising this now, Ted's in love with Paul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get always get worse before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have very specfic feelings about things that Paul gets to feel now. also anxiety.

Paul has lived in Hatchetfield all his life, so he’s more than familiar with its various oddities. That doesn’t mean he has to _like_ them.

He’s sipping his coffee, listening to Bill complain about Alice’s girlfriend Deb, when Charlotte hurries in. She’s always had a nervous air to her, but it’s worse than usual this Monday morning.

“Oh thank goodness,” she cries. “Paul, Bill, I need your help.”

As Charlotte explains what happened, Paul runs through a checklist in his head. Sure, they already _know_ it’s cult-related, but it’s reassuring to run through the list and go ‘Yep, that sounds like a cultist alright’.

The worrying thing is, they aren’t sure _which_ cult. 

Paul only knows about two of the big, current cults in Hatchetfield. Everyone at CCRP Technical knows about the musical cult and has had at least one encounter. This is probably because the office is right by the Starlight Theatre, their base of operations. They call themselves the Hive, or the Apotheosis, or something? Paul doesn’t care, he just wishes they would stop harassing him on his way to work.

The other one he knows of he hasn’t had to deal with personally. Emma’s brother-in-law has some sort of feud going on with them though, last Paul heard. Honestly, he’s not convinced that it’s not some sort of scam. But hey, if these people really want to give all their worldly possessions to the ‘Prophet of Wiggly’, who is Paul to stop them? 

This doesn’t sound like either of them though. Paul can _maybe_ see the Hive giving weird liquids to people, but he would have expected there to be more singing and dancing, and less cryptic messages. 

A thought occurs to him. “Wait, Charlotte, where’s the flask now?” 

“Oh,” she says, startled by the interruption. “I left it on my desk. I didn’t want anything to do with it, but it just won’t leave me alone.”

Paul has a bad feeling about this. “Well, maybe we should have a look at it? See if it can give us any clues?” He doesn’t say that he thinks leaving it sitting out on her desk is a bad idea.

They agree, Charlotte with some reluctance, but follow Paul back to Charlotte’s desk.

He walks in to the sight of Ted standing by Charlotte’s desk, looking dazed. The bad feeling solidifies into a dreadful certainty when Ted’s gaze darts flashes to Paul, and he smiles. It’s the nicest smile Ted has ever directed at Paul.

Charlotte pushes past Paul. “No no no no _no_ ,” she mutters under her breath, pulling the, oh dear, the _flask_ from Ted’s hand. “Oh no, Ted, did you drink _all_ of this?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry,” Ted says, not looking away from Paul. “Let me know what I owe you.”

 _No singing or dancing, probably not Hive_ , Paul thinks, even though that’s the least of his worries. He curses the fact that his panic response right now is to freeze as he watches Ted walk over.

“Hey Paul,” he murmurs, and oh, there’s a hand on his face and another on his waist. Paul can feel himself start to flush. Between the proximity, the touching, and the _look_ in Ted’s eyes, it’s… It’s a lot to take in right now.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Ted tells him, thumb gently stroking Paul’s cheek. Paul laughs nervously.

“Th-thanks buddy.” He pats Ted awkwardly on the shoulder, yelping when Ted pulls him into a hug. 

He makes desperate eye contact with Bill and Charlotte over Ted’s shoulder. Bill shrugs helplessly, while Charlotte watches wide-eyed, hands over her mouth.

“Paul, I need to tell you something.” Ted pulls back, hands on Paul’s shoulders. There’s a determined look in his eyes. Paul doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ted look so serious.

“I’m in love with you.”

“That’s nice,” Paul squeaks. "Um, I think Mr. Davidson needs to see me now, okay byee." And he runs away, because _what the fuck_.

* * *

It's fine. Everything is fine and normal.

Well, not entirely. Ted’s clearly affected by the potion, but he doesn't act all that differently. When Paul’s not there, he’s basically the same as usual, if a little more… Paul-focused. When Paul _is_ around, Ted’s nicer to him, though still a bit of a dick. He just wants to spend time with Paul, and do shit like hug him, or hold his hand.

Paul hates to admit it, but it’s nice. 

But it also isn’t _Ted_ , not really. As nice as Paul finds it, he has trouble accepting the affection when he knows it isn’t genuine. So he decides to start avoiding Ted. He isn’t _proud_ of this plan, but it’s the right choice to make.

And then it very much _isn't_.

* * *

The day after Ted drinks the potion, Paul puts his plan into action. He’s had time to think about it overnight, and it seems like the best course of action. 

It sucks seeing Ted’s face fall when Paul leaves the room immediately after Ted enters, but it’s necessary. It _is_ , Paul tells himself. Still, it’s hard, especially when the others tell him that Ted’s pretty down about it.

* * *

The avoidance strategy continues on Wednesday. It _really_ sucks that Ted doesn’t even seem surprised when Paul leaves now, just … sad. And tired. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days. 

It’s fine though, Paul tells himself, even as he watches from the corner of his eye as Ted sits slumped at his desk, head cradled in his hands. Everything is fine.

* * *

It’s on Friday that everything is finally proven to be not fine at all.

Paul’s supposed to be focusing on the reports he’s writing, but he’s mostly keeping an eye on Ted. Initially, it was so he could see when Ted was coming so he could avoid him. Right now though, Paul is quietly worried. 

Ted looks even worse today. He’s pale, with deep bags under his eyes, and his hair is dishevelled. Paul thinks he might be wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Honestly, he looks like shit.

He watches as Ted stands up and sways for a moment, bracing himself against his desk. He starts heading towards the breakroom, but he doesn’t get more than a few steps before he collapses.

Paul’s up and out of his seat before he has time to think about it.

“Ted, _Ted,_ ” he says, tapping his face gently. Ted’s out cold, a trickle of blood coming from his nose. “ _Shit.”_

* * *

Bill comes with him to take Ted to the hospital. According to the doctors though, nothing is wrong with him. They acknowledge that he’s clearly suffering the effects of _something,_ but it’s outside their jurisdiction. It’s _bullshit._ Paul hates the ‘non-interference’ clause the hospitals here have towards the cults, but there’s no time to argue.

They take him to Professor Hidgens instead. Paul’s not a huge fan of Hidgens, mostly because of how obsessed he is with the cults. Paul doesn’t need that energy in his life, thanks. But it _does_ sort of make him an expert on a lot of the weird shit that goes down in Hatchetfield, so he’s their best bet.

Paul taps his fingers on his thighs nervously as he watches Hidgens examine the flask. Bill had gone back to the office to fetch it while they waited for the results of the tests Hidgen did.

“From what I can tell,’ He says thoughtfully. “And what you’ve told me, it appears that Ted doesn’t only _want_ to spend time with the person he imprinted on, he _needs_ to.”

 _Shit_ , Paul thinks, standing up so abruptly his chair falls over. _This is my fault._

He hears the others calling out to him, but he can’t focus on that right now. He bursts into the professor’s medical room - seriously why does he have this? Ted startles, looking up from where he was scrolling on his phone. He’s pale and looks clammy, and there’s a smear of blood under his nose.

“Hey Paul,” he says with a tired smile, voice hoarse. “Where’s the fire?”

Paul flushes a bit, because yeah, he did charge in here, and he hadn’t really thought through what he was doing. But he’s here now, so might as well roll with it.

“No fire,” Paul says with a nervous laugh. He sits down by Ted’s bed, fidgeting with his hands for a moment before deciding, _fuck it_. With a fortifying breath, he reaches out and puts his hand over Ted’s. “Just worried, I guess.”

Ted’s surprise is visible as he glances between Paul’s face and their hands, before it melts into a happy relief. He turns his hand over to twine their fingers together. Paul hates how nice it feels. “Thought you were avoiding me?”

Paul looks down at his lap guiltily. “I, uh, I was, a little.” He ignores Ted snort, because yeah, it was more than _a little_. “I’m sorry about that - I didn’t realise it was hurting you.”

Ted squeezes his hand, leaning back the pillows and closing his eyes. “It’s fine,” he says. “It must have been a shock, finding out I was in love with you, so I get it.”

Paul laughs miserably at that. “Yeah, something like that.” No matter how many times they try to explain it, Ted can’t seem to remember the fact that this whole thing is magic-induced. It’s not even that he’s denying it, because he’ll accept what they say, and then forget it as soon as they change the subject. To Ted, this is all totally normal.

“Hey, Paul?” 

Paul makes a little noise of acknowledgment, staring down at their joined hands blankly.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

He hesitates, and immediately feels like shit about it when he meets Ted’s eyes. They’re hopeful, but the longer Paul stays silent, the more resigned they become.

“I- Yeah, of course. I would love that.” Paul squeezes Ted’s hand this time, and the smile Ted gives him is so brilliant and genuine that he kind of wants to cry.

“Awesome, awesome,” he mutters, closing his eyes again. “Listen, I’m gonna take a little nap. You’ll stay?”

Paul smiles weakly, even though he knows Ted can’t see it right now. “Yeah Ted, I’ll stay.”

Ted squeezes his hand again briefly. Paul wiggles his fingers in response, tapping his fingertips against Ted’s knuckles. 

He’s asleep in minutes. Paul considers letting go, but Ted chooses that moment to tighten his grip ever so slightly. 

He lets him slump over onto the side of Ted’s bed, head resting on his arms. It’s awkward and slightly uncomfortable to do while still maintaining a grip on Ted’s hand, but he finds a decent position.

“Okay,” Paul whispers to himself, and then a few more times for good measure. He’s okay. He’s fine! They're both fine. Totally fine.

Everything will be _fine_.

Maybe if he says it enough, it’ll start being true.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, do not hold your breath for an update, but know that I love you


End file.
